Sorrow
by Dreams-Of-Ash
Summary: When she was stripped of her memories, she told herself she was hurt, lost, angry... But she was afraid. Based on Beware the Batman's Magpie. 2-5 chapters.


"**Sorrow"**

"But… I'm afraid."

Her words seemed to linger in space, paralyzing the world. The Magpie knelt on her knees, her eyes widened. All these years she had told herself she was hurt, broken, lost… But never had she admitted to suffering from the most poisoning emotion of all:

She was afraid. Hysterically and desperately afraid.

Magpie felt the intensity of The Batman's eyes on her back, saw Ravencroft's memory device out of her peripheral vision, heard her instincts screaming at her to attack while she still could. She pushed it all away.

In that moment the past five years seemed to flash before her. She saw the thick metal bars that had imprisoned her at Blackgate, remembered their icy coolness as she tried frantically to free herself. Magpie remembered how her stomach knotted when she woke up to no memories, then later the utter disbelief when she found she could not feel pain. Flashes came of her nights on the streets, how she would often get sidetracked due to her uncontrollable obsession with things that shine. Then came the memory of the night she met legendary Batman- the surge of panic she felt as his cable caught her mid-fall.

"This bird will not be caged again," she whispered aloud, all hysteria from the last time she said it gone.

"Caged again. In Blackgate you were kept in a cell where Ravencroft could study you," The Batman voiced from behind her.

Magpie flinched, drawn from her thoughts. "Yes," she answered, her voice a million miles away. "Tight spaces- I've never liked them."

The Batman took a step closer. "You remember. You were stripped of your memories... But you remember the cage."

There was a long silence. No one spoke, no one moved. If this moment was to be hung on the wall of a museum, it could have passed as a painting.

Finally, after several deathly silent minutes, Magpie spoke. "I… Remember," her voice shook. "I remember the cage."

"Is that all you can remember," The Batman questioned, his voice seemingly less menacing, though it still carried the ever-present element of intimidation.

For several drawn-out minutes, the Magpie sat and thought. She strained her memory, trying to recall something, anything from the time before her brainwashing.

"No," she finally said. "Only the cage."

"Then is that what you're afraid of? The police dragging you back to the prison that created you?"

It was then she realized what she was doing. The Batman could be working for Ravencroft for all she knew. He had been staring into her office when she ran into him- it made sense.

"Don't you _dare _tell him anything else," her instincts warned. She had the knockout drug in her hand, ready to inject him at any moment.

Her muscles tightened, ready to leap up, but the rest of her body hesitated. _He's offering to help you. Let him._

_Don't take any chances. Taking chances stripped you of your past. _

_You've been carrying this weight for five years. It's time to put it down. _

_Don't you dare, don't yo-_

Magpie slowly rose to her feet, arms crossed over her chest. _Let it out, don't let it control you any longer. _ "I'm afraid… Of it all."

She dropped her hands to her sides, retracting the syringe. With her back still tuned away from the Batman's heavy gaze, she began to speak.

"Imagine waking up one morning not knowing who you were… Imagine standing up to look in the mirror, only to find you don't recognize the person looking back at you," she raised her hands, removed her mop of artificial hair.

"Just a few minutes ago I realized I was wearing this," she said, fingering the fake hair. "It came loose when we fought."

She walked over to a window, saw her reflection against the night. She stared at her face for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar features, then screamed.

"_Whose face is that? Why don't I recognize it?" _

She threw the wig on the floor before reaching for a discarded book. She held it above her head, aiming for the glass. Her muscles tensed, then relaxed, and then the book joined the wig on the floor.

"Imagine trying to tell someone your name, only to find you couldn't remember," her voice was even again, her anger gone as quickly as it had come. "Only to find you couldn't remember anything."

She turned to face him then, her hands outstretched, palms up, as if she were waiting for an answer to fall into them. "Then, as the panic overtakes you, you begin to question your entire life. When was I born? Where do I live," her voice quaked, her eyes closing. "Who are your parents? Are you married? Do you have children or siblings…Or are you the only family you have?"

The Batman blinked, but remained silent.

"Then," her hands fall to her sides again, her eyes falling open. "You ask the most important question of all."

She stepped forward until they were only inches apart. Without warning, The Batman felt a slight pain in his side. He looked down just in time for Magpie to remove the needle from his flesh.

As his vision blurred, he struggled to hear her last words:

"You stand there with tears in your eyes, and you ask yourself," she whispered. "What have I done to deserve _this_?"


End file.
